


remembrance day

by Lethildiren



Series: buttercup [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Oneshot, POV Second Person, Pre-canon (mostly)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-16 17:01:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11833095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lethildiren/pseuds/Lethildiren
Summary: Monsters and Humans really aren't so different, after all.(or: Chara makes a promise. Somehow, despite everything, they manage to keep it.)





	remembrance day

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this on my phone at four in the morning last night, as a spur of the moment thing. I have no idea where the idea came from, nor do I know why I decided to write it at four in the morning. But here it is: the first real _thing_ I've written and felt was good enough to publish in a very, very long time. Even though it's also absurdly short.
> 
> I hope you enjoy.

“Today's the day,” your brother chimes, falling limp in the snow next to you. Snowdin is especially cold today; it takes an unusual degree of self-restraint not to edge further towards him. You are inclined to blame it on his fur.

Instead of wriggling through the gelid snow in hopes of finding additional warmth. You opt to ask a question. “‘The day.’” He nods, vaguely, his head rising up and then gently thudding back down in the slush. “What is the occasion?”

He shifts around slightly. His head rotates to stare at you; his amber eyes are squinting at you, one wider than the other. Is that an attempt at a quizzical eyebrow? “What, you really don't know?” He asks, his tone joking. “You spend so much time in the Librarby, I was starting to think one day you'd come outta there made of paper,” he lightly quips.

You narrow your eyes, and Asriel’s expression collapses in on itself. With him at last realizing your question’s sincerity. “Huh,” he hums, bemused. “Well, uh… tonight's Remembrance Day,” he says, as if that explains much. “It's the day Monsters came down here.” You nod your head, mouth dropping open into a small ‘o’ regardless of whether Asriel can see.

“I see. Then today is a holiday,” you presume. He hums out an _ mmhm. _ “I will presume Toriel devised it.”

“Dad, actually,” he offers, and you blink. “He told me a really long time ago that everybody kept feeling down about today, so he made it a thing.” His loquacious speech is certainly impressive. You aren't smirking at all. No, certainly not. (…a  _ thing. _ Really, Ree.) “So instead of being sad about being stuck down here, we get to be happy we're…  _ here,” _ he says, eventually, with an infinitesimal shrug.

“I see,” you say. Blandly.

The two of you stare up at the cave ceiling for some time. Asriel does not speak again; nor do you. A Monster trudges through the snow behind you, grumbling to itself about the chill.

“What does this ‘Remembrance Day’ entail?” You query, shifting your gaze down to him. Instead of speaking, he merely grins and points a finger to the 'sky.' A brief flash of light, a flicker of sparks. A small fireball — no larger than the flame of a candle — shoots up into the air. And then it is gone, leaving only the faint hint of cinnamon in the air to indicate that he used any sort of magic at all.

“That,” he says. “But  _ everyone _ does it. All over! Er, well, tonight. Which looks cooler! It's the prettiest thing you'll ever see,” he promises you. He is staring closer at you than you are at him, now. You let out a thoughtful hum.

“Reminiscent of Independence Day on the Surface,” you think aloud. Asriel perks up slightly, ever eager. And you oblige him. “Humanity lacks the capacity for Monster bullets. Of course. Yet they felt a need to set the sky alight with colorful flames irregardless.” He looks deeply intrigued until you mutter “And burn their houses to cinders through some manner of  _ bizarre happenstance,” _ at which point it appears the effect is ruined.

“It does still qualify as beautiful, however,” you insist, attempting to salvage the situation. “For the majority of the time.”

He does not respond. You do not continue speaking, either. There's not much to be  _ said. _ (But you do not want to get up.)

Instead, you finally give in and snuggle up a little closer. As predicted: you are now too comfortable to be willingly moved.  _ Ah, glorious  _ warmth. _ How I’ve missed you so. _

…

Causing Asriel to blush under his fur, redder than his eyes, is merely a bonus.

* * *

 

There is a day; then there is a night. As Asriel had stated beforehand, it  _ does  _ seem that Toriel and Asgore are readying themselves for something. They ought not to have retrieved that box of candles from where it had been stored until January and the time of Asriel's birthday drew near. “Tonight is special, Chara,” Toriel informs you when you politely interrogate her.

“In fact, I believe the rest of the Underground will be looking to celebrate it, as well!” A smile stretches across her snout, wide and bright. “It is Remembrance Day tonight, to be specific. Have you read of it already? If not, I will be happy to tell you what it is.”

“I have not. But Asriel beat you to it,” you add, and Toriel’s mouth shuts with a light  _ click. _ “You've my apologies, Toriel.” You suspect your grin makes it difficult for her to take that statement seriously. Especially if her expression is to be any indication. It was not intended to be a very serious apology, anyway.

She nods her head, smiling again. “That is good. Well—” she pauses, glancing out through the window. “It should begin shortly, I think. If you would like to watch?”

“Of course.” There is a million separate reasons behind that response.  _ 'I am not yet exhausted enough for sleep.' 'I would be an idiot not to.' _ Primarily, _ 'I promised Asriel I would spectate.' _ You need not say any of them.

It takes merely forty minutes from that point on. Then Toriel quietly ushers you and Asriel outside; Asgore stands ready and waiting, staring up at the ‘stars’ and the  _ ‘sky’ _ with an expression of anticipation. “I never do grow tired of watching the others celebrate,” he rumbles to himself as you approach. Then he turns to look at you. Somehow, if possible, he now looks happier. “Howdy, Chara, Asriel,” he greets. “You have come to watch, correct?”

“I wanna show off, too,” Asriel mumbles from shortly behind you. You glance back at him for a single, ephemeral second. Then you snicker.

Off in the distance, in your peripheral vision, an electric-blue spear shoots through the air. It is quite  _ literally _ electric-blue, as well. Crackling with lightning that is constantly assaying to escape but cannot. It flickers into nonexistence as fast as it had arrived, certainly, but it isn't alone. No; it merely heralded the beginning of something far more magnificent.

Toriel raises her hand first. A magnificent fireball, colored a deep purple, flies off into the distance. Other bullets shoot up into the air, visible from across the Underground; a snowflake, wide and pale as a star. A thunderbolt, glowing yellow and moving unnaturally fast. Is that—… yes. A Temmie opted, instead of demonstrating its dubious magical talent, to launch  _ itself _ into the ‘night sky.’ Classic.

Asgore joins in after four minutes. His trident flies through the air, redder than blood, and then it  _ detonates. _ Red sparks are scattered across the black canvas above you, hovering without any seeming inclination to obey gravity and fall back down. From here they resemble nothing at all; from elsewhere, you decide, they undoubtedly must have arranged themselves to resemble a massive, magnificent Delta Rune. It's only natural, you suppose.

Asriel is so enraptured, you suspect he forgot to  _ shoot any bullets. _ Asgore chuckles at his wide eyes and gaping mouth. “Being King does entitle me to a bit of fun every now again, Asriel,” he says, his eyes twinkling. “Do not worry; one day, when you are King, I will be looking forward to seeing  _ your _ display and this entire situation will be reversed. That will be a good day,” he muses, turning back to the Monster equivalent of a fireworks display.

You elbow Asriel rather abruptly, and undoubtedly painfully. But it does get his attention. “One day,” you say to him, and you are not entirely sure  _ what _ drives you to say it now; some impassioned declaration prompted by the lights, perhaps, or a spur-of-the-moment impulse that you obeyed without question, as you oft do with such things. (It doesn't matter.) “I will show you this display under a  _ real _ sky. All of you.”

It takes you longer than you would prefer to finish your sentence. The lightshow continues unabated; Toriel smiles down at you, having clearly overheard your whispered promise. But you aren't finished. (You will never be. Until— well.)

“...I promise.”

(Until  _ now, _ you decide. Just for once.)

* * *

 

“Are we there yet?” Frisk shushes him quietly, continuing their trek through the woods. “Where are we even  _ going? _

“Somewhere nice,” they tell him. He makes a face, full of some over-exaggerated emotion that you cannot quite discern at this angle. “And I'm not gonna l— not gonna leave you there or something, if that's what you think.”

“Riiiight,” he drawls, having chosen to ignore Frisk’s stutter. “Then  _ where—?” _ For a moment you forget how you could  _ ever _ reconcile this  _ thing _ with your memories of Asriel— but then Frisk has the audacity to  _ shush you both, _ their mental  _ 'shhh' _ only sounding slightly different from its verbal counterpart. You can only barely restrain your laughter. (Being Frisk, they hear it anyway. The sound makes them smile wide and bright. Like someone else you knew once. Once, and again.)

Three more minutes pass in silence. And then Frisk arrives at a lone bench atop the mountain. “Alright,” they chirp, setting the flowerpot down on the bench as they sit down. “Now we just wait.”

“For  _ what? _ Frisk—” but then Frisk points out to the sky, a light gleaming in their eyes. Flowey goes dead silent.

The sky is alight with color; Monster bullets and Human fireworks alike. A snowflake, wide and pale as a star. Two twin spears, hurled upward from asynchronous positions on opposite sides of town but meeting together in an ‘X’ irregardless. A massive skull with a comparatively tiny rider flies across the sky, its silhouette briefly flitting over the moon, and Frisk is startled into laughter.

And then a massive, vibrant red trident is flung out from a familiar house far, far away. It detonates, and lo: the Delta Rune shines in the sky. With the full moon standing in for the circle that once represented an Angel. Frisk glances down to Flowey, grinning wide; the flower’s face has gone slack with shock, his eyes wide and jaw agape. “I… you…”

A slight mental poke is all the prompt Frisk needs. They mentally step aside; your senses are abruptly set aflame with a comforting chill and warm fabric and simple  _ life— _ for they had not been  _ yours _ at all until a few seconds ago. After a short pause to adjust yourself. You reach down and tentatively run a hand across the back of Flowey’s petals. “I had said once,” you whisper, watching as he goes ever stiller. “I would show you this over the night sky. The true one.”

He turns to stare at you blankly. His face is uncomprehending— but his eyes, full of hope. Dull, dark green (once  _ amber, _ but nothing about this creature resembles Asriel at all now) eyes meet crimson. You think you may see liquid welling up in his eyes.

“I keep my promises,” you say, softly. Flowey gives you a shaky, hesitant nod. And although you do not see a resemblance in his flesh, his  _ expression _ is so very much like Asriel's that your heart shall always, _always_ stutter at the sight of it. Now unto forever.

...

Although there is no warmth to be gained from it — not here, not with him — you snuggle up to the flowerpot anyway.


End file.
